Clouds Out To Lunch Poem by Robert Rorabeck
Clouds Out To Lunch
Wasted dollars out to lunch,
Words left on the bank like dead flowers.
She takes herself to find new love
At the roller rink amidst all
Of the glitter—
To forget about backyard swimming pools
And the school boys that can be found
Sometimes coming home in
An almost hedonistic rain.
We all have a price to pay
But our time is up.
Clouds are built to fly away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/23/2024 8:11:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
